


In the Interim

by Alchemine



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alchemine/pseuds/Alchemine
Summary: Miss Hardbroom is not herself when Miss Cackle is away.





	In the Interim

As head of the school that bears her name, Miss Cackle's business often takes her away from the castle proper. Sometimes she travels to meetings with the Great Wizard and his council, from which she usually returns within a day, and at other times to speak at conferences for the heads of witching schools, which can stretch to nearly a week. Last summer she went on a long training course to learn about the latest advances in pedagogical methods, and ever since her return, has been going on at Hecate about "soft skills" and the importance of fostering a team spirit in the classroom. To this, Hecate raises her eyebrows, says nothing, and continues to conduct her lectures and laboratory sessions exactly as she sees fit.

Regardless of where Ada goes, however, she leaves her deputy in charge, and this is what Hecate dreads.

It isn't that she's incapable of looking after the school on her own. On the contrary, in many ways she is more capable than Ada, who has a tendency to lose paperwork in her office and has never met a deadline she liked. But when Ada is away, Hecate is raw and unsettled and anxious, as if there is a gaping, unseen hole in the castle's very foundation that she can do nothing to fill. She circles the date of Ada's scheduled return in acid-green ink on the calendar, and every evening she takes up her pen in a textbook-perfect grip, which was drummed into her at the age of five and has never faltered, and draws a precise line through the square for that day, marking the time until Ada is here and everything is made whole again.

During the day, she is sharper than usual with the girls, who think themselves unfairly done by and huddle together in corners, making snarky remarks about power going to people's heads. Hecate can hear their whispers like tiny, needling insect stings in her ears, and wonders what they would think if she confessed that she cannot wait to hand that power back to the woman to whom it belongs. Instead, she schools her face into granite sternness and tells the lot of them to stop gossiping like crows and get on with whatever they ought to be doing. They all scatter and vanish at nearly the speed of magic, leaving Hecate to repair to Ada's study and sit behind Ada's desk, where she always feels uncomfortable and out of place. She would rather have her own straight-backed wooden chair on the other side of the desk, so she can bow her head over her work and imagine that Ada's kindly smile will be there to warm her when she glances up, but she knows it would look odd if anyone were to barge in unannounced (as both girls and staff sometimes do, even though they've been warned against it), and find her not in the proper seat for her temporary position.

Sighing, she switches on the Tiffany lamp with its trembling fringe of beads, straightens the little purple and gold glass bottles that Ada keeps on her desk as decoration—frivolous things, but they please her, so Hecate does not complain—and unrolls a parchment from the heap waiting to be attended to. The timepiece round her neck pings gently to let her know four o'clock has struck, and her brain does the calculation without being asked and informs her that Ada will be back in eighteen hours, more or less; likely more, as Ada has the same relaxed attitude to timekeeping as to paperwork. It should be reassuring, knowing that the time is so short, but Hecate's restless imagination is happy to provide her with visions of Ada being delayed, deciding to stay an extra day, getting into an accident on the way home, abandoning her—

 _What arrant nonsense!_ It's her grandmother's familiar, disgusted voice in her head, still there even though Grandmother has been dead for decades. As always, it pulls her up short, and she tells herself firmly to stop. Eighteen hours will pass quickly enough, and in the meantime, she has more than enough work to occupy her. Really, if anything she ought to be irritated with Ada for leaving her so much to do; it isn't as if Ada hadn't known she would be away, and some of these scrolls are weeks old. Perhaps the next training course Ada signs up for ought to be on time management.

Despite these thoughts, the invisible counter ticks along inexorably at the back of Hecate's mind throughout the evening meal she hardly touches, throughout the noise of the girls' raucous free hour before bedtime, throughout the lights-out room check and the delicate adjustments she makes to the protective spells round the castle before retiring for the night. It follows her even into her fitful sleep, so when her eyes open in the morning, she knows at once how many hours are left. She's just looked in on the girls having their breakfasts, and is on her way down the sun-washed corridor to ready the laboratory for the first potions lesson of the day, when she glances through a nearby window and sees a small, round figure in an unmistakable pink cardigan descending toward the courtyard on a broomstick—not late for once, but early.

A swift transport spell, and she's there and waiting when Ada lands and dismounts, sending the broom and its burden of baggage off with an affectionate pat on its bristle end.

"Well met, Miss Hardbroom."

"Well met, Headmistress," Hecate replies, and revels in the sweet sensation of broken pieces falling into place and knitting together; of the unseen hole in the foundation sealing itself up without a seam. She doesn't embrace Ada, but she clasps her by both hands, and Ada squeezes back with soft, warm, slightly wrinkled fingers that feel like the essence of everything safe and good in the world.

"How I've missed you." Ada's face is wreathed in the fond smile that Hecate has been yearning for during all these empty days, and she feels the corners of her own mouth curve up automatically in response.

"Welcome home, Ada," she says.


End file.
